But at least the juvenile nonfiction shelves have now been completely reorganized. Now I get to sit back and watch the little boogers yank the books off the racks and strew them every which way until chaos is lord once more.

Last night I shelved books in my sleep. When I worked at Eat 'n Park, my friends and I used to have what we called "I'm so under" dreams, in which we were waiting tables for the entire restaurant all by ourselves, and everybody was ordering desserts and salads that we had to prepare. I do believe that I've just had my first "I'm so under" dream as a librarian. Rather sad in comparison, I must say, but no less unnerving at the time.

Working with her today was more fun than I had anticipated. We were scanning ancient photographs of buildings and famous people, talking about site design, and working with Photoshop for touchups; I didn't have to think about history more than a few times during the whole lesson. She's very excited about getting the page up and going, and I found myself getting carried away by her enthusiasm. She loves working with the historical stuff, no matter how many eyes are rolled when she brings up the subject.

When we were touching up the picture of old Willard Way, our benefactor over there (no, she's not up for using my rather insightful depiction of the buzzard), I made his eyes blue on a lark. That got us to giggling, and me to thinking: why not use this for a project? I toyed with the idea until I came to my decision, and then suggested it to Boss-Lady. She loved it, so we're going to do it.

This summer, I was scheduled to teach a couple of classes on basic Photoshop. My idea is this: why not let those kids, and any other interested teens, put their new Photoshop chops to work with a little contest? I'll provide Willard in JPEG format, and the contest will be to see who can come up with the most interesting idea of what he might look like now. That is to say, if he were alive now, not how he might look in his coffin.

The contest will center around Willard's birthday on August fifth. In addition to that, I'll see if I can turn the thing into a line drawing that we can print out and use for a coloring sheet for the little kids; we can display those all around the circulation desk, and give a sticker to any little tyke who does a picture. (Because really, how can you judge crayon drawings?) The winning teen will get some kind of gift certificate, and I think our publicity woman wants to do something else with their picture, but she hasn't decided yet.

I think it's going to be a blast. The pessimist in me is already worrying about what to do if somebody turns in something really offensive, but I suppose we'll have to worry about that when and if it happens.